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Twisting slowly up the walk.
I wanna get this over quickly.
But my body is not doing what I thought I'd make it do.
The gun is getting slippery.
And my vision's getting blurry.
And I feel a certain panic flowing through me in waves.
But I face the door now
and I notice I am knocking.
I think I hear your footsteps,
or is it my throbbing head?
I see the *** is turning,
as I swallow unsuccessful,
but I'm raising from a sigh
the clouds are parting for the sun.
Won't he listen?
Listen to me.
Won't he listen?
Can't he see?
Let me in.
I'm coming for mother.
Let me in.
***.